Phoenix
by BeccaAFW
Summary: 2012 PEARL AWARD WINNER. The Lost Pages of Panem. Here are the unofficial last 8 chapters of Mockingjay we all knew in our hearts needed to be there; Closure, Gale, Peeta, A Wedding and a Resilient Katniss.
1. Reunion

**PHOENIX**

2012 PEARL AWARD WINNER

Category - "AND THEN THEY LIVED..."

* * *

My Best friend turned 30 just after the release of The Hunger Games' final book Mockingjay.

When she expressed her dismay with the lack of closure at the end of such an involved series,

I decided my birthday gift to her would be to write out the vision that I consoled myself with.

May you find it as beautiful and healing as I did.

**And please review :) **... I have outlined adding more scenes to the final few chapters but I'll only follow through if someone else cares too.

The Hunger Games and any of its characters belong to Suzanne Collins. They are not mine. This is not a work for publication or resale; just-for-fun fanfiction.

* * *

**1**

**"REUNION"**

Continued from pg. 386 {Scene with Buttercup}

…_Because hours later, when I come to in my bed, he's there in the moonlight _(darkness)_. Crouched beside me, yellow eyes alert, guarding me from the night. _that has progressed into a midsummer storm. A "Katniss-perfect" day now drowned in a streaky black as clouds blot out most of the moon's light and smear it down the window pane.

I adjust into a more comfortable position which elicits a deep growl from Buttercup. "No one is forcing you to stay there." I mumble into my pillow and force my eyes closed against the light that flashes with the thunder outside. As I give in to sleep, my dreams adhere to the nature of my surroundings and eventually I am lost in the smoky horror of a district being bombed.

Although I was not here when it happened, I have had enough experience courtesy of the Capitol to see it well enough. Gale, leading the hundreds of refugees out of the city limits while others are trapped, searching, screaming all around. Victors' Village, the only haven against the barrage of explosions, saved to allow me in my nightmares to observe the annihilation of my home. Hovercraft fill the sky, an air force bent on complete eradication of the pronounced _vermin_ of District 12. No longer worthy of support or protection from the Capitol; a danger to the empire.

As the thundering blasts rocket through my frame I watch from my window as a mute prisoner; a sole witness against this monstrosity. Faceless figures scramble through the streets. Although, I am sure, with a closer vantage point I could name them. My village, my neighbors, my friends, my family, my… victims…suffering in my name… all because I live.

A face turns toward my watch tower in the night, a lighthouse to the chaos below, and recognition dawns for us both. Peeta. So, he is not in the Capitol _safely_ distanced from this death sentence. Nor is he confined as I am. Going to the aid of his fellow villagers and helping as is his nature. In the distance I can see the shapes in the sky unite. An imposing fleet melting from the clouds bent on converging on this spot.

My hands must register the impending devastation before my mind does because I am already pushing the window open to the rain beyond. As the words move through my chest to span the void between us, my hands, still on the sill, are caught by a feverish pain.

Strange vines with vicious thorns have found their way up the bricks of the building and work against the torrent to dominate the view. Spreading like vipers around the second story framework they force their entrance into the room. I slam the window back into place and risk more damage from the serrated leaves and spines as they claw through.

A wailing that matches the intensity of the storm is caught in the fresh silence against the window pain. I see my own contorted face screaming back at me. As the vines make headway toward breaking the frame, the bombers arrive in the square below. All at once, through blinding light, shattered glass and freezing evidence of the storm outside, I am thrown backward off my feet. Then just as quickly my lungs are assaulted with a much stronger version of the distant village smoke.

Peeta. The one person I have left in the world who truly knows me and was willing to fight for me. The only strong arms that have ever supported me through the pain.

Flames eat at the vines as they fall through the gaping hole in my wall threatening to consume the rest of the space. Despite the mix of ice and fire that shove me away, I have to see. I advance across the room toward the scene below.

Nothing.

Nothing but the appearance of hell; black and smoldering into the night. With each step I can feel myself screaming but I no longer know what may be issuing from my mouth. It doesn't matter, there is no one left to hear me. I take another step and hope that I have reached the threshold of my pain, that with another step, the numbness will take over in preparation of landing in the darkness below. And I must be right... because...it's gone.

With a quick jolt it is all over. No cold. No pain. No Smoke. Only the sensation of being held by hands that know more than mine. Twin heartbeats twining together against the rain.

Ever so slowly I register the familiarity of my surroundings. No bombs, just distant thunder. No fire just lightning driving the fading rain across the night. And something unexpected. My senses know him before I recognize his voice. The comforting scent of flour, warmth and salty skin. The undeniable catch in his breathing, issuing familiar concern for me. Arms that I have known, loved, missed, regretted, sought and been denied. Hands that have helped, healed, and crushed me.

I would know him anywhere and yet would never expect him here. Here in this tormenting ritual of restless sleep and demons. Demons that are now my constant companions in his place. I sink into his comforting embrace that used to be mine. It has come to hold me again but as if at a distance, miles from where we used to be. As if the emotion, as well as its owner had been hijacked.

"You came." I whisper into his neck. At first no response only a cessation of the rocking I had been unaware of. Then...

"Even if it hadn't been my name you were screaming to the world, I would have come. I couldn't ignore how frantic you sounded." Even though the message was tender, his tone was so unlike the Peeta I had come to know in times like this. "It's not usually my habit to leave a nice warm bed and run out into the worst storm of the season. Quite the welcome home present."

He's quiet, though devoid of his kindness and warmth I had come to expect under previously similar circumstances. Almost defensive and unsure; abused. I know I am the reason for this shift; well, me and the residual effects of the hijacking, but in my exhaustion and emotional state I adopt his tact.

"So sorry to have bothered you!" I try to lift myself out of his arms with the words and the gesture fails as pain shoots through my palms. Gasping I try to see through the dark what has caused such burning. Bloody hand prints ink themselves across Peetas chest and he holds my wrists tightly.

"Stop moving Katniss. You've lost the bandages again." With care that his tired words don't register, he replaces thick gauze on my shredded hands. He must see the look of shock on my face because he adds with a bit more patience, "You really did a number on yourself after you threw that chair through the window. From the looks of it you would have thought the demons were inside the house instead of..." He lets the sentence die. Instead of outside? or instead of inside _your head_...

Slowly I realize the reality and the embarrassed defensiveness fades. "Thank you Peeta." I hope my whispered thanks makes it across the widening space between us as I collect myself on the other side of the ... bed? My mother's bed. I take in the room around us in the faint metallic light of a rainy night fading into a rain tinted early dawn. He must have removed me from the scene of the crime. Oh well. At least someone is using the space. I'm doubtful my mother will ever see the walls of this house again.

A little louder this time, "Thank you. I'm sorry." ..._Sorry for the blood soaked through your shirt, for the complete failure of a fiancée and friend I have turned out to be, for dragging you back to this awful place where everyone who cared for you is now gone. Sorry for not always speaking the truth to you that I know you should hear..._

"Peeta, how come you came back to 12?" I ask it tentatively, softly, carefully without a plan.

In the darkness it is challenging to read his face but not the words that accompany it, "You know why Katniss."

"No. I really can't understand that you would do it for me. I know the Capitol filled your head with a lot of lies, but through them you finally did discover the real me. I'm selfish, guarded and broken." I wave my hand to silence any protest and continue to think what I should be saying…_I am not a kind person. I often put myself first. I don't easily let others into my life. I am quick to be offended and slow to forgive. I silently criticize to the point of disdain. I never give anyone the benefit of the doubt and I have abused your incredible nature repeatedly. A nature that is the exact opposite of what I have just described._ But all that comes out of my mouth is "Why?"

It's a long time before he turns away from the glow growing through the windows to face me. I watch the hazy pink shadow slowly coming into focus on the wall above his shoulder. I don't think I can look in his eyes but knowing that he is probably waiting for it, I eventually see them; reflecting my sorrow and self-loathing.

"I came back...for many reasons. It's the only home I've ever known and my last connection to my family… and you. But, you're going to have to meet me half way this time Katniss. I could say I came for dandelions. For a cure. For memories and hope. But mostly… I came for time." Not knowing if he was finished, I let that most eternal of words hang between us. There was nothing I could say either way.

"Dr. Aurelious worked pretty hard with the doctors who hijacked me to reverse all the damage done. And in the end I was hoping for this great release, a grand lifting of the burden that has been so strategically placed on me. But it didn't come. Not completely. I watched the untainted versions of our time together in the arenas and on tour and realized so many things."

Looking through his lashes at me he dryly adds, "I felt like I fell in love with you a long time ago. A small desperate girl trying so hard to help her family survive. And fueled that love with every moment we counted down our lives in the games. But I held you on that pedestal for so long I may not have noticed anything else. Ever. I am not sorry that it came to that, only sorry for where we are now.

"As my therapy came to an end and I felt so raw and empty not knowing where I belonged in this new empire. I tried so hard to visualize what it was I wanted. Where would I be in the years to come? And even though it came with fresh aching feelings, I couldn't see any future without you. You're the closest thing to family I have left. It was that thought that made me think I could come here and try. I know that there are no strings attached to that effort. I cannot force anything on either side. We have both been through a lot. Both our families... And Gale...he has much more claim on you than I ever did."

Now it is his turn to wave through my interruption. "Don't say it Katniss. I have watched our tale from every perspective possible and can truly observe as someone apart from the events. Snow even had footage of your first kiss. I know what he was to you. _Is_ to you and if it is any consolation, I am willing to challenge that without the pressure of desperation, health, survival, media and Snow breathing down our necks.

"But it's a two way street and you can make all your own decisions for the right and sincere reasons this time." As he says the last words he pulls himself to his feet. He looks so tired and I have no idea how to bridge the river of words between us. His back turns to me as he struggles with the last of his thoughts.

"I know, more than anyone, that you can be unforgiving, critical and selfish, but you are also brave, resourceful, tender, loyal and one of the best people to have around in a crisis. The problem is the crisis is over. The nightmares are no longer out _there_ Katniss.

"When you find your place and peace in this world, you'll see that more clearly. And maybe, you'll also be able to see why I chose to be here. Waiting for you." His words finish and send him down the hall without looking back.


	2. Regrets

2

"REGRETS"

The hammering noise quickly makes itself known throughout the house and it takes a minute for my brain to register that it is not just accompanying the throb behind my eyes. Hammering... tools... fixing things that are broken. My window. My mind and heart. Oh Peeta. He has been home two days and both mornings I have awoken to the noise of his working on my property. I wonder if he will make a habit of this.

Instead of jumping up and running out to him like the previous morning, I lay snuggly reflecting on the conversation we had in the wee hours of the dawn. Not knowing how to move forward with his declarations, I determine to stay under the covers until he is gone. Cowardice. But how can I face him? I can't outwardly make a decision I am still wrestling with inwardly.

It has been a long lonely stretch for me; burn recovery, solitary confinement during the trial and now self-imposed exile. Why not rush into the arms of someone who could make me so happy? Oh, because the last time I rushed into his arms he almost killed me. It took weeks for those bruises to go away and the emotional scar may never leave me. It's too hard to love. It always stabs you in the back. I cannot think of a soul that I have truly loved that has not hurt me for doing so.

As soon as I am sure he has left, I creep into my room to inspect the work. It's perfect. He has even repainted and swept up the shavings. The only thing out of place is how clean the new window is in comparison to the others and his hammer sits on the sill.

I run my fingers over the new trim around the sparkly glass and wonder if my body would have actually followed my mind and jumped out this window last night. The thought makes my skin crawl. If it wouldn't have been for Peeta...

I deftly retrieve the hammer and head down the stairs. Why does he have to be so good to me? I definitely don't deserve it. I find him in the garden between our two houses. Working on some other new transplants.

"Don't work too hard. You're making me look bad." I manage to project a smile to show that I might be trying to meet him...half way? no. Just not trying to push him away. "You're supposed to be a social recluse for at least a month before venturing out at small intervals and letting all of your responsibilities go to reflect the state of your mind." My smile cramps at the end of my sentence due to its lack of humor and closer resemblance to reality.

I hand over the hammer a few feet from where he can actually reach it. He gets up from the planting bed and dusts himself off stepping my way. As he takes it from my grasp, he holds my gaze and my fingers for a moment.

"It's going to be okay Katniss." I reclaim my hand and my vision as it starts to sting. How does he see through me so fast?

As I turn back to the house, hurriedly I throw over my shoulder, "Thank you for fixing my window." I don't hear his reply.

Roused to do something by Peeta's example, even a small something, I decide to tackle my mail that has become quite a small mountain. In the end there is only one that was very important. My mother is coming to visit while she is here to inspect the new medical equipment factories just outside of the Seam. She'll be here in four days.

I know I may be setting myself up for disappointment again but with the news of my mother's upcoming return things take on a new light. My home is a wreck. Among the list of distractions I have built daily for myself, cleaning has not been one and Greasy Sae only deals with cooking my dinner now. She recommends a girl that comes to help me with the near renovation of the place and we meet each of the next four mornings for the task.

Her name is Bridgee Evergreen and she is Prim. They were in the same class in school, have the same slight frame and careful hands. Even their fair hair and blue eyes, so rare to the Seam, are similar. Everything about her reflects the painful reminder of my sister and makes it hard for me to converse with her but she doesn't seem to notice or mind. By the second morning she talks without any inhibitions.

"Our last names were so similar that we often were seated next to one another. I always helped Prim with her numbers and she helped me with writing. She was an excellent writer because she was so good at analyzing people and situations. She talked about you all the time..."

This last revelation strikes me. What could Prim possibly have found to say about me? I'm not ready to pursue the answer yet, but Bridgee can tell it has piqued my interests.

"She really looked up to you. She admired your strength and ambition. Always said that she wished she could be as brave as you were; challenging the peacekeepers, escaping the fence line to hunt wild animals, trading at the Hob, your skill with a bow...

After you took her place at the reaping, she didn't come to school for a few days. When she returned she was really quiet and her tears were constant. I know she'd never have forgotten that act of love Katniss." Her silence after the statement is suddenly more uncomfortable than the chatter but her next question somehow makes it worse.

"Did you and Peeta ever really get married?"

My hands freeze above the bucket of soapy water we are working through; unsure how to answer her. Sensing my discomfort she quickly retracts.

"Sorry! I am always talking too much. You don't have to answer that. I don't mean to be blurting out so much today."

After two more rooms full of floors I find my voice. "No Bridgee. Peeta and I were never married. Never filed the papers, never performed a toasting and were never having a baby." Saying it so bluntly adds to the coldness of the statement and I regret saying it in such a manner but don't know how to change that now.

"There are a lot of things behind the scenes of the games that would be surprising to the public. Many of which are not very pretty, or romantic." Thinking of Finnick's arrangements with Snow lends a heaviness to my brow that Bridgee doesn't venture to probe further.

The day my mother is expected, after light conversation and a last sweep through the house Bridgee revisits her curiosity.

"So you're going to marry Peeta _now_ right? I know you said it was an act for the Capitol but I'm not sure it was an act for him. Anyone can see he still loves you. He catches me as I leave your house and questions me about you; making sure you are doing okay and taking care of yourself and all. There I go again. Sorry...But now that you can be together…what's stopping you?"

I put down my rag and look at her inquiring face. I feel more tired as I answer, "I don't know Bridgee, the world has changed." As she stares back at me I can't help thinking that the talent of observation was another similarity she shares with my sister.

With the sun high in the sky, I follow her out the door after thanking her and paying her for her work in preparation for my mother. She wishes me a good day and winks as we walk down the steps and see Peeta coming out his front door.

He looks a bit surprised to see me and maybe a bit disappointed that he didn't get to corner my little helper today, so I give him the next best thing; me.

"Hey. Your garden is really taking root. Where did you find these little green vines?"

He answers a little distracted and asks about my mother's itinerary.

"She left the Capital three days ago and will see the new med site before she comes here. I expect her for a late dinner. Do you want to come in for lunch?"

The invitation surprises us both, especially since I have nothing inside to offer him. I had planned on going into the Seam for provisions this afternoon. Luckily I am saved the embarrassment.

"I actually just set out my own, would you like to join_ me_?"

I nod but find myself trying out _Yes Peeta. I will join you for lunch… or marry you… or just be your favorite neighbor forever. Whatever you wish. _I know a little color creeps into my cheeks as I follow him up the steps and I silently curse Bridgee for her endearing impertinence. What _am_ I going to do? Could I marry him? A thought of a beautiful silk wedding gown smoldering into black feathers halts my musings and immediately dampens my mood.

Lunch is nice and Peeta at first adopts my reserved approach to the conversation, sensing something ill at ease. Finally it appears that it bothers him too much not to know and he inquires.

"What's wrong Katniss? You didn't have to come to lunch if you're too busy, I just thought..." His brief pause invites me and I struggle to free myself from my insecurities.

"No Peeta. It was lovely. IS lovely. Thank you. I'm sorry. I would say sorry for not being myself today but I think I've given up on my view of myself these days."

"Is it your mother? Because I've been thinking and if you would be more comfortable, or if it would be a better arrangement, well if you would like to..." His struggle with words is so unlike _himself_ that I wonder if we are both out of sorts today. Now it's his turn to have pink cheeks as he hesitates. In an effort I fill the awkward unfinished suggestions with an assurance that it's not my mother I reach and touch his shoulder.

"It's okay. I know. It's not going to be easy but she is only here for a few days and she'll be busy most of the time with the new facility. Don't worry about me. It'll probably do me good to face her and _her _me. Thanks for worrying for me, but I can handle my mother." I try on my smile from earlier and it fits.

He stares at his hands a minute and the color doesn't leave his cheeks. I thought I made a good effort at normal and am wondering why it still feels so awkward when I realize my hand is still on his shoulder. I start to retract it and yelp as it is yanked back to him and locked between his own. His eyes are wide and now a sudden paleness has replaced the pink as all color drains from his face.

"Katniss. I have an extra room. Would you consider staying here while your mother is visiting?"

I am so caught off guard I don't even register what he is proposing. As my blank stare meets his intense eyes burning back at me a thousand thoughts hang there unsaid. His grip loosens on my hand and his gaze drops to the table again losing their intensity but gaining nerve.

"I just worry about you. You would have thrown yourself off the second story if I hadn't stopped you that night. But I don't feel right about breaking into your house to scare the nightmares off with your mother in the next room. I just figured it would be a bit more comfortable for you if you would stay." He allows me to retrieve my hand but it lays there on the table like a deflated balloon. No life left.

My mouth responds before my brain has even fully registered what has been said. "Peeta, I can't. You are sweet to offer, but somehow I don't think that my mother would see it as appropriate or more comfortable." My eyes begin searching what his have found so fascinating about the table. "I know that we have been through so much together and it sounds unnecessary and old-fashioned, but I better stay in my own house, my own room. I know that I will probably regret not taking you up on the offer when I wake up screaming tonight, but I just can't." And without anticipating it, my heart throws out... "Not yet anyway."

I almost throw my hands over my mouth and it takes a lot of control to resist the urge; to retract what has been revealed. But, somehow I stay still. Very still. And his eyes, eventually, manage to draw mine to them. Surprisingly, I see a smile in his eyes and it doesn't scare me. Slowly he closes the gap between us and wraps his arms around me. He presses his lips to the top of my head and whispers.

"As you wish. But if you break another window, to heck with propriety." We both manage a little laugh and he releases me.

I thank him for lunch and mention that I need to be heading in to the Seam for supplies before my mother's arrival. He offers his assistance and I decline feeling a need to be more alone with my thoughts than for company.

The sun is warm outside as I turn after waving goodbye and I realize, it is a beautiful day.

My mother's stay isn't terrible. It is actually kind of nice to see her because she looks better than I can ever remember. She claims it is the constant proximity to healing herbs and treatments but I see deeper than that. She has a purpose again and it shows in her every fiber. It hurts a little that neither Prim nor I could ever bring back the light that my father once knew in her. But at least it has found her at last. And it helps me smile too.

I manage to make it through her stay without breaking any windows. Buttercup and I have worked out a manageable co-existence, but after the sun goes down it evolves into more than that. Most nights he wards off my nightmares; senses them and adjusts his position from my feet to the small of my back or within my arms and provides enough distraction and comfort to change the impending course of my mind.

Thank you Prim.

Thank you Peeta.

Thank you Mother.


	3. Recovery

3

"RECOVERY"

I know Peeta was right when he said that the nightmares were no longer out there. But I have lived with them in reality and sleep for so long that I can't seem to let it go. Seventeen years of oppression don't just dissolve in one season. I do take his advice to try making a place for myself though. Hunting is a good start. It makes Greasy Sae happy to have me pick up my old past time and the sunshine does wonders for my appearance. My complexion loses its graying edge and the apples return to my cheeks. The exercise gives me more energy and Thom stops looking for me at the end of the day, knowing I can make it home without assistance.

I venture further into the woods than I ever did with my father or Gale. It is a luxury I was never allowed with the peacekeepers. I soon find another lake and go there frequently to fish or swim. The wild game is slowly coming back into the area. The evidence of the bombing slowly dissipating. Leaves grow through the dust to their former luster. Rain washes the rivers clear and rocks smooth. Even our village takes on a thriving new image.

Now that the mines have reopened, there are many who have returned and kept the coal mining alive; working deep underground for its much needed treasure. But along with a fresh start has come change.

As my mother's visit indicated, District 12 has now become known for its excavation of medicinal resources as well as its coal. The knowledge and progress made in the Capitol in the medical arena was as foreign to us in the districts as our apothecary use of natural cures, tinctures and treatments were to them. It has been pretty incredible to see them come together here.

My plant book has been copied several times, added to by the works of several others and now put into print for use, research and development.

The newest buildings stand in contrast to the remaining structures of our village. They have taken on a sterile, sparkly quality of modern architecture that is unlike anything we had before. They have however been designed to enhance the surrounding beauty of mountains, forest and meadows; reflecting back their qualities. It hints of Peeta's artistic camouflaging ability to go unseen but have an incredible beauty of its own.

Peeta. He remains in the Victors' Village and true to his word, is waiting. I don't know how to meet him half way. I have never had to function under _normal_ circumstances and am seriously contemplating creating a crisis so I feel more at ease. Luckily, hunting takes the edge off for me each day but I feel at somewhat of a stalemate; a droning repetitiveness that I can't escape.

In the days that have followed since Peeta's first night back, I have often run his words though my mind. Where is _my_ place in this new nation? Where do I see myself in the years to come? I envy him his vision and determination but am still so unclear as to my own.

I have tried to take my time with Dr. Aurelious more seriously. He is earning more than just his naps now but it's still hard. If anything, it is a connection to my mother and Gale. Through the Capitol news, he keeps me informed when they don't find the time. They seem to have no lack of ambition and have found a clear cut path for themselves in this new stability.

Gale is still working with Beetee and aids in defense methods. They are actually attempting to establish what could be referred to as an Ethics Manual to National Defense. He may work the rest of his life to amend the former abuse of his tactics. Pursuing this, he is also working on a team that is developing "Protection Pods"; a technology that has turned the hideous defenses of a corrupt Capitol into a useful safety net.

Specific to our coal mines a pod could be installed that would detect any shifting of the earth's surface and then respond accordingly. Tunnel and shaft reinforcements, support structures, supplemental oxygen, and emergency light sources. All could be provided through the pod detection technology. We wouldn't have had a chance during the attack in District 2 if they would have had it in the Nut.

My mother calls infrequently. She still finds it hard to talk for long. I know she mentally abandoned me as a child after my father died but now, Prim's death has brought a kind of physical abandonment as well. Then again, I guess after watching your child escape death in the arena twice, you're pretty sure she can take care of herself. But I still listen for her late at night sometimes. Expecting to hear her caring for someone injured, cooking down plants and herbs or brewing tea. The smell of her trade no longer clings to our kitchen and I didn't realize how much I would miss that.

She has become very competent and successful in the field of medicine in the Capitol. Her apothecary roots have been invaluable in combining the modern medical world with that of the rural district approach to healing. She has visited twice more since her initial stay and there has been talk of her moving back here to oversee its management.

But I know she is not ready for anything like that yet. Maybe I have been too hard on her all these years because at the moment I am finding that I can sympathize with her reclusive avoidance more and more. It scares me that I have her tendencies toward depression but I don't seem to be trying too hard to prevent it.

I received a letter from Annie recently. I have thought a lot about her over the past few months, wondering how she is holding up. She was driven mad while she still had Finnick and the loss of him could only be harder on her. On the contrary. I was very surprised to hear how well she is doing.

She informed me that she is almost due with their baby boy! How she could be so excited, I will never know but I guess she feels like she can still hold on to Finnick through their baby. My own mind is still as determined as ever that I will never bring children into this world. I know I shouldn't have the same dread that I once lived by but it's just too fragile. Better safe than sorry.

Dr. Aurelius informs me also that my prep team along with Tigris and a handful of other stylists have transplanted themselves out into the districts. They have started shops to bridge the gap between the ostentatious fashions of the Capitol and the more earthy trends of the different districts. Delly has joined up with Flavius in district 12. Their shop has space for tailoring and styling. It is quite the space and they are quite the team. It is highly unique and surprisingly appropriate for what they are trying to accomplish. Delly ensures that things are affordable and in touch with the way district 12 would need to be approached.

I cleaned out nearly all of the dresses in my storage closet for materials to get them started. At first, in honor of Cinna, I didn't think I could do it, but I eventually found that I have no use for them and it made Delly so happy I couldn't help but feel good about it. The pieces I kept were too sentimental for me to part with. My first arena bodysuit of fire, my Mockingjay dress and armor, a large box of accessories and jewelry I didn't have time to go through.

Peeta of course has taken up where his parents left off; becoming the world's best baker. He has a small bakery across the square in one of the Victor houses. The district didn't know what to do with them now that there will be no more victors so some have been sold and converted into a strip of shops; among which are Flavius and Delly's. He says that he could have built in the Seam but he wanted to be able to stay close. Close to home? I hope he wasn't implying me but I somehow think he was because he often stops in throughout the day; making sure I am taking care of myself. If ever I lacked attention and care it would not be at the moment.

He is partial to baking over a fire stone the way he was accustomed to with his father and therefore has developed a demand for firewood. He asked me if I could direct him to wood chopping areas in the forest and now accompanies me once a week to harvest. He always gets more than he needs and either gives it away to more needy cases or sells small bundles on the steps of his bakery. Everyone loves him.

He still has his flashes of trackerjacker relapses but he just grabs the closest solid surface and closes his eyes till it passes. Sometimes sweat beads on his face and tremors develop in his arms and legs but the effects are temporary and he manages to come out of it. He describes it like an allergy; going through symptoms when you are exposed to something but eventually you learn how to avoid triggering it. The problem is there are many things that he has found and has yet to find that are the catalyst.

It's pretty painful to watch at times and my heart is reaching out to him more and more. He says it helps to have someone to talk through the episode with. Between this and the afternoons chopping wood I am finding a few ways to meet him in the middle toward developing...something

The last of Haymitch's geese have died and so he was living each day in the bottle. Peeta and I had discussed our concerns and it was actually one afternoon chopping wood that we came up with a solution. I am hunting more regularly now and with more game coming back to the area am quite successful. Most of my meat went to Greasy Sae and for next to nothing in profit. What she couldn't use was divided between Peeta, myself, Haymitch and Gale's mother (she and the younger children have moved back.) There was still some meat that went to waste and we often discussed the regret of not having a butcher in the village. So, two and two, Haymitch-the-butcher proposal was born.

At first there was no enthusiasm but he came around and Peeta set him up nicely next door to his bakery. The first time he saw the shop he complained about everything and shouted some rhyming nonsense about a candlestick maker before disappearing for the rest of the day. But, the next morning he opened his doors and has been diligent in the effort ever since. He always had good skill with a blade and it seems that stabbing and dismantling meat all day has been very therapeutic for him. We've noticed less and less bottles in his trash and he is almost arriving on pleasant some days. At least he's not scaring away customers anymore and it filled a need in the area. It's good to see him with such a sense of purpose. I guess we all need to feel needed.

It should be inspiring to see the lives that everyone has carved for themselves once removed from the oppression of the previous government, but Peeta was right. I work better under pressure and I find myself returning again and again to the oblivion of my bow or holding tight to an isolated privacy locked in my house.

Peeta has however, convinced me in my reclusiveness to further my writing projects. I continue to add information to the Victors' Log and Plant Reference Book and am starting on an instructional manual on Archery. I may approach Gale to do one on traps and snares with me in the future. The far distant future. Maybe.

My progress is pretty stunted but Dr. Aurelius assures me that it _is_ there.


	4. Realization

4

"REALIZATION"

Time moves on whether you will it or not and I have started a count down with the days. It was unconscious at first; an annual habit of anxiety. But as the date drew closer I realized what was drumming in the back of my mind. Like a death march that has long since passed but with an aftermath that will never be forgotten; The Reaping. Once again, it is here.

Even though so much has happened in the past year and I should know that there will never be another arena, never another name drawn or youth torn from their family and forced into that awful reality that the Capitol dare call a "game", I still wait through the day with baited breath.

Prim would have still had her name in the drawing. I don't know if it feels like any consolation to know that if it were still a possibility, she would not be around to answer the call. But, no. The Capitol, with or without the games, has still taken her from me. The weight of this awful paradox weighs me down as the hours pass to evening. All of this began with me volunteering my life for hers, and I still lost her. Fate is a cruel thing and I am starting to see maybe a force to be reckoned with.

Greasy Sae comes and goes like the world still turns and I become a fixture against the couch; hard flooring eating into my bones, keeping me conscious of the minutes. As the light reflects sunset around the room, I force myself onto the cushions and curl into a ball for warmth. The fire has long since burned itself out. The ever present fatigue wins and through silent tears my eyes seal themselves and allow the ghosts to live again.

I relive every reaping I have ever attended. Feeling each pain and farewell anew. I recall clearly the day I had my own name placed and was able to put it in repeatedly for the tesserae. What an awful joke the Capitol forced us into. A false sense of security in gambling with our lives. A risk we were all more than willing to take. Out of necessity and survival. A risk I also would not allow Prim to wager on. How much of her life did I shelter her from? Deny her of? Wish for her? Beg for her to have...

Her memory conjures the emotions that went through me the day her name first appeared in the reaping bowl. So sure was I that with only one slip among all those names, my own twenty times over and Gale's...the odds were so small. I hear her name. This time fate has its way and won't let me speak. I feel the words of Prim's salvation in my throat but cannot get them out. She looks to me with terror in her eyes and turns as if in a trance toward the Town Hall steps. Without agency she is drawn toward them. I try to grab her, turn her away, forfeit my freedom for hers again, but it is in vain. I am a statue, sending my sister to her death. I burn with the struggle to speak, to run, to scream and the relief does not come.

Convulsions spasm through my mind and body as I picture Prim in my place in those games. How would this change all of our fates? Would Peeta work to save her? Would her own strength save her? Would she have the heart to kill instead of heal? To destroy instead of make whole? To be brutal enough to make it to the end as victor? No. No. NO!

"PRRRIIIIIMMM!" Acid tears through my throat as I find my voice. A deranged strangled scream rips through the square and the people of district 12 watch in silence as I begin to tear through them toward the stand and my baby sister. Pushing and struggling against them I am slow to any progress as hands grab me through the crowd. I scream louder. Aching for her to hear me and know that I will take her place. That she will never have to face that reality. But the hands are now iron bands around me and restrain all my efforts. As I thrash and kick, Prim's name is mixed with my own until it is ringing in my ears. _Katniss! Katniss it's okay. Look at me._

"KATNISS! IT IS ALL RIGHT! Wake Up!" I feel hot breath against my cheek as sweat runs down my face. The harsh light of the square fades into the cold darkness of my living room as my nightmares of sleep meld with the reality of waking.

"Katniss, look in my eyes." But he is here. And his tender hands pull my focus to his face and I see so much in those eyes. The Reaping forgotten. Now the tears come for so many things lost. Not just Prim, but my Peeta. He is my Peeta and I realize that Gale was right. I've found the one I cannot survive without.

As my breathing returns to normal and the ache of body and mind subside I find a peace that hasn't come since before the Quarter Quell. Not a drug induced morphling kind of peace, a deep true stillness that allows me to fall into oblivion.

Dreamless. Screamless. Painless.

I feel the warmth of day on my face, the growing light behind my eyes, Buttercup curled snugly at the back of my legs and tight sheets holding me securely; and nothing could feel worse, as his absence fills my room. I roll to my side and try to hug some semblance of my life together as my feelings slowly register and begin to sort themselves out.

I recall my first conversation with Peeta upon his return to 12. _You are going to have to meet me half way this time Katniss._ If this is the only thing I have left, I certainly hope I have not lost it completely. At least this time, he knows what he is getting. No Cinna-created blinders of makeup, lights and fire. And no desperate survival instinct to draw upon. At least on Peeta's behalf. Mine swings in the balance and nothing could save me more right now. But where do I begin? How does one start such a long road back to a life I no longer know how to live? But here it is. The beginning. I can at least confess that it is a life I do want to live and I can't do that without him.


	5. HalfWay

4.5

"HALF-WAY"

I am not sure how to approach my new found determination but I know I have to start somewhere. Crawling out of bed I find my whole being feels lighter in some way, unburdened. I quickly dress and discovering I have an appetite for the first morning in a long time, I make my way to the kitchen. Hmmm. Well, food would be a good place to start. Since I have none, I will direct my enthusiasm for life in that direction first. Suddenly I find that I really need one thing in particular; fresh bread.

The grass still shows signs of last night's dew as my feet tread a pattern between our homes. _Just go. Don't think. Just go..._No answer at the door. It takes my head long enough to consider where he would be to let my confidence waiver. The bakery. Of course. Where else is a baker early in the morning?

As I cross the square I try to think of what I might say. _Hello my darling I would like a loaf of bread and you..._just doesn't quite feel right. I have never been the sentimental or romantic type and am quite out of my comfort zone. Why don't they teach these things in school? I guess I could do it if my life depended on it and... maybe I have come to the realization that... it just might. I take a deep breath and I try to picture a little silver parachute reward at the end of this visit.

The bells on the handle announce my arrival and instantly I lose my nerve. I see Peeta all the time. Why do I suddenly have the impulse to turn and run back across the square? But it's too late. I'm here and his flour dusted cheeks and blue eyes have appeared around the corner.

"Good Morning!" His smile causes my voice to stick in my throat and all I manage is a slightly mangled smile accompanied by a squeak. A hint of concern creeps into the lines on his forehead as my silence continues.

"Are you alright? I'm sorry about last night. I had forgotten that it was the...I should have come by yesterday; had you over for dinner or something." He crosses the small room and pulls me inside far enough to close the door. "Your arms are like ice. And you're _shaking_. Katniss. Tell me what's wrong." This brings me to my senses and eases the anxiety slightly. I better respond before his disconnect with my feelings for coming here get too far off track.

"No. I mean, nothing. Nothing's wrong. Sorry. I'm only cold because I forgot a coat and your hands have been in an oven. I came for some bread." It sounds just as lame as my earlier attempts so I hastily add, "And to thank you. I'm really not trying to make a habit of disturbing your sleep, but you don't know how much it helps to have you there."

He seems a little caught off guard and drops his eyes to his hands as he responds, "Yes I do. That has always been the time I am most aware of my feelings for you...and yours for me. You never push me away like you sometimes do in the light of day."

The catch in my throat is back but I am urgently compelled toward my objective and grasp his hands.

"Well sir, I have no intentions of pushing you away today and would love to warm my hands by your ovens." I trace my cold hand up his forearm till it is hooked at his elbow and draw him to the back of the bakery.

Luckily I have managed to recover the situation and we enjoy a pleasant visit while he finishes the morning orders. It is neat to watch him work. His capable hands and practiced confidence look so effortless in his cozy environment. I find myself noticing how his hair has grown out longer than he usually keeps it and that his pants need mending. I stay longer than I should and eventually make my way back out to the front of the shop.

"It's been fun watching you work. Maybe I will come bother you again sometime." He leans toward me and my hands slip off the counter-top behind me as my spine presses into it. His arms reach around me and his face is inches away as he whispers his response.

"I would like that. Katniss...don't forget your bread." His hands retrieve a loaf off the counter and he pulls away placing it in my hands. His smile is unreadable, mischievous even, but it sends warm shivers down my back.

I pull the bread up to my face to hide the impending blush and manage a response, "Thank you. You smell divi...IT smells...this bread smells divine! Have a nice rest of your day!" I trip over the doormat and somehow manage to get down the steps without further embarrassment. Ugh! Maybe I should have stuck with my cheesy pickup lines. It may have been better than what actually came out.

My cheeks and hands burn as I carry the warm loaf home. By the time I reach my door I find that a smile has found my lips and it feels really nice. Like I said, it's a start.

After my truly graceful visit to the bakery it feels that at least the ice has been broken. Peeta has always come to see me but now I seek him out more regularly. Our wood gathering days appear less formal as we grow more comfortable with each other.

One day we end up making our way to my lake and I am surprised to see a tidy little pier joining the beach to the pristine water. There is evidence of use and it casts a strange foreign feeling on the scene. Peeta, reading my expression, comments with surprising knowledge.

"Have you not seen this? I built it you know. I remember the feelings I had in the clock arena. So out of place. Afraid even. You on the other hand were a thing of beauty in the water; such a good swimmer. I thought it would be a good idea if the children of our district were able to share in that education. It is part of the school curriculum now you know: swimming lessons."

Swimming lesson. The thought feels so fuzzy in my brain. Our education in the Seam was so limited, nothing like they are experiencing now. It is incredible to think of the contrast. A child growing up in the districts now has all of the same resources available to them that the Capitol children have. They can become anything that they want. It's so good but so different at the same time. I will not be able to adjust as fast as the rest of the nation appears to. I can't find the right words for all the thoughts buzzing in my head so I just smile.

"It's a lovely idea Peeta. I am glad they could use it." Prim would have loved this too. I find my hand in his and he leads me out to sit on his pier. We sit and talk and laugh as the sun drops further in the sky. It feels good as the cool water swirls around my ankles and my heart grows closer to his. I have not come here to swim since returning to District 12 and I make a mental note to find the time. As crickets begin their evening lullaby, we make our way back to the village without any wood. The task forgotten.

"The offer still stands you know. You can live here when your mother moves back." The bowl of berries we had just gathered from Peeta's garden slips from my hands and shatters on the paving stones; bringing me back to the moment and his eyes. So sincere. So open and ...since the berries...full of concern.

Time, purpose and sun have done so much for him that the Capitol never could. His very being seems to radiate the glow of sunshine, evergreens and mountain air. Since when did his smile set my heart racing and hands shaking? How does something so amazing instill this much anxiety? He takes in my silence and I am relieved it doesn't deter him. He retrieves a broom and begins cleaning up my shock spilled across the front walk.

"I've been working on it for a while now. You can see it if you want." The disjointed sentence brings to light that I have been focusing more on berries and broken pottery than what was being said. He dumps the sticky rubble in the tidy trashcan by the side of his steps and stands waiting for a response.

"I'm sorry," I eventually get out, "...see what?

"Your room."


	6. Proposals

5

"PROPOSALS"

Your room?

_ My _room?

All this time as Peeta's friend, neighbor, _girlfriend..._ (that just sounds so tacky and lacking after all that we have been through) fake fiancee...I have never ventured much beyond the entryway or kitchen of his home. Not for anything lacking on Peeta's end. I had built up some subconscious wall apparently that would not allow me too far into his world. I _am_ a selfish, self-centered person. I don't even allow his hammer to stay in my house ten minutes and he has devoted an entire room to me.

As an answer, I place my hand in his and wordlessly follow him up the stairs. He leads me through the identical layout of our homes to the same room that would be mine in my house. Same window, same view. Same placement of the furniture but that is as far as the similarities go. At first it is so very different from anything I was expecting that I have not allowed these similarities to even register. What does, is brilliant light on a flawless beach, mountains cascading with greenery down to sprawling meadows of flowers and a body of cool glass reflecting the glorious ambiance of a rising sun. An _orange_ sun, bringing this whole world to life in My Room.

"It's incredible," I manage to get out in a whisper as the vibrant colors blur through tears. My fingertips register the walls before I even know that I have moved toward them. One hand on green trees the other on the heat of the brightest spot on the wall. Both foliage and celestial body pulsing with life beneath my palms. I close my eyes and imagine their life and warmth but only my breathing reflects back from the cold hard canvas.

"They are complimentary colors you know." His words startle me back to him. He's staring at me, and not really registering his meaning I just stare back. "Green and orange... A perfect match of contrasts. Lending the richness of their own color only to enhance the beauty of the other. You were right. I do love _that_ orange." He indicates the view of the true setting sun outside of the window. Its light bringing an added intensity to the painting. His hand covers mine over the pulse of brush strokes and the other hand finds my waist. "I hope you like it. Because it is of no worth to me without you in it." His warm breath on my neck fulfills the lack of heat reality sends off the mural. Shivers respond to the contrast.

Slowly he turns my face to his and gently erases the tear paths that have made their way to my chin. I know he can read the gratitude, admiration and energy in my eyes for they are reflected in his own. I am transported and suddenly feel sun-baked sand beneath my feet. The heat of midday on my hair and face. Gentle waves through my mind.

A familiar but elusive burning in my chest. And fire. In his eyes. Our lips find each other and sparks join fire and burning. The tightness builds in my heart and throat until it becomes hard to breath but still I don't pull away; knowing it would not bring relief to the throbbing but only increase the pain.

This time, without cameras or audience, ulterior motives or guilt. Free. I give in to the waves now crashing in my ears and allow them to rock their way from my heart to his.

_-Excerpt from Mockingjay page 388 slightly reworded-_

{And somehow I always knew this would happen...that what I needed to survive was not Gale's fire, kindled with rage and hatred. I have plenty of fire myself. What I need is the dandelion in the spring. The bright yellow that means rebirth instead of destruction. The promise that life can go on, no matter how bad our losses. That it can be good again and I can finally see that only Peeta can give me that.}

It has been so long, it feels like an oasis after decades in a desert. Why have I waited? Why have _we_ waited so long? I have needed this ever since the second we were separated in the arena and have denied us both this confirmation. My hands lock in his curls and if it's possible, pull him closer. We sway in our dizziness and I feel the bed frame press against my calves. For a brief second the moment tests both our limits but Peeta gasps and manages to dislodge my hands from around his neck.

"Katniss! Wait!" He grips my hands toward bruising and our eyes meet in the glorious light of a setting sun. As our breathing returns to normal, he sits on the edge of the bed with me next to him; arms tight around me. I lean in to him and feel his breath hot in my hair.

"We have to do this right. It feels like we get to start over with all the right circumstances this time; a fresh beginning. I can't take advantage of you after a _first_ kiss." A breathy laugh accompanies his last statement and I am confused.

Even though my mind understands his words my heart hurts with their meaning. I have waited so long for him. So long for me; to come to a place in my own world that would allow this to happen. Free from every inhibitor that kept the star-crossed lovers apart for so long that now with nothing between us... is holding back even an option?

I twist in his embrace and again feel tears slip down my cheeks. His smile quickly dissolves into concern as he reads my expression. Carefully he turns to see me more clearly and runs his hands up my arms to my jawline. Holding my face he pulls it to his own and my lips tingle as they brush his. He begins speaking again with our eyes closed and noses side by side; lips a breath apart.

"I love you Katniss Everdeen. I love you more now than ever. I have loved you from the first time I saw your five-year old little face. It has consumed me from the second I placed that burned loaf in your hands and that love has carried me to this moment. I want you more than anything, but please, let me do this right. I wanted so much for you to truly give your heart to me during the games and never sincerely felt it... until now."

The residual light of a sun gone down fades from my lids as our breathing and heartbeats align. Peeta drops one hand from my face to steady my hands that have started to shake. His gentle squeeze entices me to open my eyes and meet his. They are beautiful, silvery and so deep as he enquires, "Real or not real? You love me too."

"Real." The word bursts from my lips with all my pent up emotion and the streaky tears turn to sobs as he holds me even tighter. I curl in to a fetal position in his arms and allow myself to be completely consumed by my meltdown. The tears come for many reasons but mainly for the release of every care I had borne alone for so long; the realization that I'd finally made my decision and although scared to death of so much unknown future ahead, couldn't be happier.

Eventually my sobs subside and peace replaces them. I lie with Peeta on top of the covers until the beautiful murals melt into the last of the fading light. I couldn't feel more safe here with my head on his shoulder, arm across his chest and nestled in his embrace in this sanctuary of a room he has made for me. I listen to his even breaths and am almost convinced that he is asleep when he finds one more thing to whisper through the dark...

"Katniss, will you marry me?"


	7. Preparations

6

"PREPARATIONS"

My name is Katniss Everdeen. I am nineteen years old. I live in District 12. Our district is known for its coal mining and development and distribution of medical supplies. My mother is the head of medicine and will be arriving in a month from the Capitol to stay...

My name is Katniss Everdeen... _try it_...

My name is Katniss ..._Mellark_. The soon to be wife of Peeta Mellark, town baker, wood chopper, artist and keeper of my heart...

My mind wraps around the title and all of its implications. Wife, family, mother...isn't that the reason to get married? To raise a family and live happily ever after. These would never be my reasons. I made up my mind a long time ago that I would never be a mother and though the government and world may change I really don't see this as an alterable factor. Peeta says I just need time. Well two years has not been anywhere near enough. At this rate if my mind could ever come to it, I'll be too old to worry about it anyway.

We often talk about our future, ideas and concerns while on our wood gathering expeditions. He knows I don't desire to bring children into this world, I know that he would like to travel. He knows that I need to be babied into change. I know that he would rather ignore some responsibilities than take life too seriously.

He has helped me love again and trust in something I had lost my faith in. Peeta really would have made an incredible dad. Too bad he's decided to marry someone who will never give him the opportunity.

Marry. Ugh! I have tried to talk Peeta into an elopement. Doing things similar to the traditional District 12 ceremony; fill out papers, receive a few guests in his home, toast some bread, sing a song and call it a done deal. But he is set on making it more of an ordeal than that. After seeing what the Capitol has to offer and the fanfare that happened for Finnick and Annie his ideas of an appropriate ceremony have changed.

He says he'll take care of all the arrangements all I have to do is show up dressed like a bride. Really? _That's_ the easy part? Even though I have zero interest in all the preparations, I do want it to be nice for him and immediately regret giving all my dresses to Delly and Flavius.

I venture down to my storage closet that had held all my gaudy costumes and rifle through the few things I did manage to hold on to. Hmmm. Army black, flaming body suit or Mockingjay feathers... Dismayed I kneel and open the box of accessories hoping to find something to base a wardrobe on.

Necklaces, earrings, tiaras, capes...all _very_ helpful...helpful in making me wonder why I didn't give this box to the fashion industry as well? Then I unearth from the bottom a glossy red box with my name and a beautiful white ribbon on it. It's rather large and I know I have not seen it before.

An envelope is tied in the ribbon and I sit down to open it. Out falls handwriting that is near and dear to my heart.

_My Dear Katniss, _

_ I have a feeling that I will not be able to deliver this in person so if you are reading this, I am glad that you have found it. Open the package before reading the rest._

Even though tears have sprung to my eyes reading Cinna's sentiments from beyond the grave, curiosity gets the best of me and I set the letter aside. It is strange to have contact with him again. Just like when they unveiled my Mockingjay combat suit, I find myself wondering how much he knew. I cut the ribbon and slide off the lid. Inside layer upon layer of silky white pours out into my lap. Oh Cinna. Don't do this to me. Without further investigation I feel for the card and reveal the rest of its contents.

_ Yep. You guessed it kiddo._ _I designed a dozen of these dresses, most of which you saw, a few you didn't. The rest were for the Capitol and a clamoring fashion addicted audience. This, my dear, was for you. A strong independent young woman with striking features she'd rather conceal. _May you eventually get to wear it with the man of your dreams. Best wishes for your happily ever after. No one has earned it more than you.

All my love,

_ Cinna_

Cinna's wishes bring to mind Boggs' words on the day he died. _Soldier Everdeen, I'm planning for you to have a long life…Because you've earned it. _Their faith in me echoes through my heart as satin and silk tremble in my hands. These were amazing men. I don't deserve their happily ever after. If I could trade places with them I really think I would. The world needed them and it may be true that only Peeta needs me. I wipe my eyes and nose on the back of my worn sleeve afraid to leak on my gown. Dazedly I leave the storage closet and retreat to my bedroom.

In front of my full length mirror stands a truly elegant lady. Sharp cheek bones, dark mysterious, somewhat brooding eyes, imposing posture and presence. Even with ratty hair cascading over my shoulder the dress still holds an air of class accentuating the depth of my dark curls. Who is this woman that Cinna sees in me?

The dress is incredible and truly unique. It is so elegant and commanding at the same time. Very little of the style resembles his Capitol-created gowns. The materials are still luxurious and well made, just more appropriately combined for a country district. The silk is thick and reveals a rougher texture. The lacing crosses my heart and is similar to the lashing pattern on my archery arm guard. It ends in a knot of satiny ribbon that hangs past my knees. I find a dainty pair of lacy slippers and nothing else in the box. It's a relief. Some of those previous veil, hat, flower, and jewelry combinations were just too much.

Well, I guess this ends my search for a dress. It's a wonder that the woman in the mirror isn't delighted that she looks so amazing with so very little effort on her part. You would think she could at least stop crying all over the gown.

I take it off and hang it in the back of my closet where it will wait.

My mother arrives the day before the wedding. We spend most of the afternoon unpacking and moving her in. We don't talk much but she does kiss my cheek as she heads up to bed.

"He's a great man Katniss. I am proud of you. Get some sleep."

I do sleep. But it is a restless sleep that hints at nightmares. I feel drained as the sun peeks into my room the next dawn and realize that I have managed to sleep in a little.

Upon gaining awareness, I sense the warmth of something fresh baked swirling through the room. As I turn to see the source, my eyes focus beyond a plate of sweetened pastries to curly blond hair and a smile that instantly make me as warm as his gift.

I try to glare at him as I acknowledge his presence.

"It's bad luck to see the bride before the wedding you know." My attempt at a reprimand fails miserably as his wide bright smile prompts mine.

"Yes, but it may be worse luck if she doesn't have a good breakfast." His hand finds mine and he runs his lips across my knuckles. "Besides, you're not in your dress yet. I don't think it counts. And I couldn't resist. It'll be a long day without you." The last statement joins a wink.

My mind jumps to all of the plans that he has been working on. All of the details that are so secretive and foggy to me about today suddenly overwhelm me.

"Peeta, I think I feel sick. I may have to stay in bed. You can just bring the paperwork by for me to sign later."

His eyes sparkle and one eyebrow rises as he inspects my claim. "Katniss. You feel fine. Don't be nervous. We deserve this. Just enjoy it." Returning me my hand he bends to kiss my forehead. "I'll see you tonight!" echoes behind him as he heads down the hall whistling.

By noon my prep team arrives as promised. Loyal, sweet Flavius, Venia and Octavia. They made me swear they could do the honors. I have tried to treat myself with more care since they last saw me so it's nice to know they have something to work with. No war wounds, bald spots, scar tissue or cracked nails to hide this time. I convince them to take me to Beauty Base Zero but they convince me to add a little sparkly color to my cheeks and lips.

Hair, skin and makeup all finished I retrieve my waiting dress. I had assumed that Cinna would have informed my prep team about it so the moment of the unveiling catches us all off guard. Three cheery faces suddenly go pale and gasps accompany instant sentimental tears. They had no clue. After a dedicated silence, Flavius finally finds words.

"I had my suspicions since you didn't come to the shop for a gown. But this is beyond description. He has made you into a true angel my dear. We are honored to have had this opportunity." His hands shake slightly as he pulls something from his pocket; my Mockingjay pin. He secures it in a nest of curls pulled back from my face. It sparkles against the dark backdrop as we admire the effect in the mirror.

"Thank you Falvius. Venia. Octavia. You have become like family to me and I am glad you could be here today. We have been through quite a bit together." More tears join hugs as their task is finished and they prepare to go. Their absence leaves me with my mother who sometimes feels less like family to me than those three tattooed fashion-drowned individuals. A knock at the door triggers butterflies I have managed to keep at bay. It's time. One last look in the mirror and I manage a genuine smile. A good contrast to the sniveling woman I was when I last tried on this gown. Ready or not, here I come.

"Mother," I call up the stairs as I head to the door. "We need to go now. My groom awaits..."

I open the door to shiny black shoes, dark sleek pants, a well-tailored suit coat, broad shoulders and... olive skin. Jet black hair and gray eyes I know as well as my own, smile back at me.


	8. Perfection

7

"PERFECTION"

Speechless I stand without moving; only staring at this handsome man before me that is not my fiancé.

"Nice to see you too." Gale answers my silence with a sly grin. "You look stunning. You didn't go with any of the dresses the audience chose eh? Good choice."

Due to the fact that I still have not engaged in the conversation, he steps inside, takes my arm and begins to lead me out the door. Then, seeming to notice my mother beckons back to her.

"Hello Mrs. Everdeen. You too are looking very well. What a great day for a wedding," and offers her his other arm. This helps pull me to my senses and I stop him as we step out onto the front steps.

"Gale…?" I can't seem to form the rest of the sentence. It is good to see him and there should be a million things to say, but I am caught off my guard and I don't know how I feel about him looking so gosh darn good and whisking me away on my wedding day. He seems very genuine but there is an air of nonchalance that is very unlike him. He of course knows my thoughts even without me having to pursue them.

"Ah. _What_ am _I_ doing here? Well dear Catnip, a few weeks ago I received a phone call from Peeta informing me of your _genuine _engagement, which I must say I would have rather heard from you. I was made aware of his plans to keep you unbothered with the decision making and he wanted advice on things that would matter to you." He reclaims my arm and leads both my mother and me down the steps to the most darling little carriage that I was just barely noticing.

"Most of his questions were easy; What's her favorite flower? Would she want bridesmaids? Who else should be invited? But then he got to one that stumped me. Would Haymitch be okay to give Katniss away...

"I had never thought about your father not being there on your wedding day and the idea made me really think about what you would want. How you would be feeling... and once again... I guess jealousy won out or at least my over protectiveness of you and your family. I couldn't have anyone else giving you away my dear. You've been my girl much longer than he has any claim to make and I would be honored if you would accept the gesture."

Once again I stop him. My mother climbs in to her cushioned seat and waits. I take his elbows in both of my hands and turn him towards me so as to see him more clearly. This chatty banter is so unlike him and I read a deeper message coming through. His eyes look sincere though a little out of sorts. I guess this takes us both into territory unknown. I had thought how I might feel seeing him again after our last conversation and this was not the setting.

But I see that we share the same memory of comfort with each other. A partnership of hunters that have got one another's backs. An ease of understanding how to read each other without words. A bond of the only brother my life has ever experienced and I know that we are okay. After a moment of studying each other, my smile warms his and I draw him closer. On tip toe, I kiss him on the cheek and say the first full sentence since the doorbell.

"I missed you too Gale. Of course I accept. Thank you."

"Then your carriage awaits Madame." The ice is broken and I know I am truly happy to have him there to share in my joy.

Our transportation is a fragile looking little cart pulled by a matched pair of dusty brown horses. It feels enchanted and gives me more butterflies thinking of what else lies in store. Knowing now that Peeta has been interviewing my friends and family makes me a bit nervous. With every minute my anxiety builds until I can feel sweat run between my shoulder blades and build between my clasped hands. I think my companions sense my disquiet because there is no more attempt at conversation.

We ride through the Village to the outskirts of the Seam. My eyes question Gale and he just smiles.

"You'll see." is all he gives.

I have no idea where this jittery energy is coming from. I have experienced far more nerve wracking situations with Peeta than this over the past three years. I _want_ to marry him. He makes me feel safe and loved and alive. I cannot explain the way my heart is racing and how my erratic breathing is now giving me a headache.

We turn up the trail road that has now formed heading up to the lake. Gale decides that maybe he should rescue me from my stupor.

"You are making the right choice you know. About Peeta. You always did need someone better apt to keep you out of trouble. He's a good guy and I do know that he truly loves you. Doesn't _deserve_ you, but he'll do."

My throat chokes on the onslaught of emotion threatening to avalanche and all I manage is a weak whispery, "I know."

The sun has come to a rest low in the sky; highlighting the particles in the air and lending a glow to the world. Upon arriving at the lake my breath catches in my heart. Elegant accents combine with a breathtaking natural backdrop. I see evidence of where my prep team spent their time since leaving me. The pier is lined with greenery and tiny white flowers. Small candles float along the shoreline and a few twinkle out in the deeper water. The scene is perfection. But the emotions are what hit me first. Our lake. My father feels so close I feel cold tears threaten my lashes. How can I do this without him and Prim?

Peeta and the newly elected Mayor of District 12 stand on the planks that join the pier to the beach. On one side Plutarch and Haymitch dig their shoes into the sand looking the perfect contrast of fashion next to one another. On the other side, my team. The loveable clueless little trio that has become so dear to me still have the same expressions that I last saw in their faces. It is a good thing that Beauty Base Zero includes no real eye makeup or it would be gone anyway.

Everyone is dressed in similar attire. The rough dark fabric native to our district fashioned in a tender combination of traditional and modern. Colors range from dark sage-y greens to deep blackish blues complimenting and accentuating the hues around them. We come to a stop and nerves that never came when I was sixteen or seventeen are now disabling me.

It takes both my mother and Gale to guide me out of our carriage. As my knees regain their strength my mother joins the rest of the wedding party. Gale squeezes my elbow. I meet his eyes and his smile encourages mine.

"Breath Katniss." His whisper triggers my feet to move as a melody of waves and crickets joins the swish of my dress across the sand. My hammering heart echoes our footfalls as we step on to the pier. Gale places my hand in Peeta's and retreats toward my mother.

At Peeta's touch, a warmth spreads from our fingers up my arm. Its path finds my cheeks as Peeta's eyes find mine. How can so many feelings exist all together? Love, hope, sentiment, friendship, anxiety, nerves and now an assurance that I am holding the right hand. Finally. This last revelation manages to calm my shaky legs and I feel my face smile as my teeth bite my lower lip.

The Mayor leads us further out on the pier and everyone files in.

"Well, Peeta and Katniss, since you never managed to make it to the town hall, we have brought the town hall to you." His kind demeanor invites us to sign the papers legalizing our union and he proceeds with a short ceremony.

Haymitch and Plutarch produce long white candles that are lit and passed between each individual. As hand meets hand sentiments are expressed from these people who have grown so dear to us. The elegant tapers make their way to Peeta and me. The Mayor holds out a third candle that beckons a flame. As all three wicks unite the setting sun mirrors a similar blaze across the reflecting lake.

We perform the traditional toasting by candle flame and its significance seals our paths. Fireflies find their way across the water as the last candle is placed in a wreath and sent out onto the lake.

Peeta takes both of my hands and draws me in for a whisper of a kiss. I feel his voice warm on my face as he looks in my eyes.

"Katniss, I pledge the rest of my life to you and your happiness." He lets my right hand fall as he reaches in his pocket and produces an exquisitely dainty band. As its cold slides down my ring finger he continues, "Accept this ring as a symbol of that promise."

I answer with my arms thrown around his neck and a kiss more befitting a newly wedded couple. Suddenly I pull back far enough to see his face and regretfully exclaim, "Oh, Peeta…I didn't get you... I'm so sorry. I didn't know…"

My admission is interrupted with something small and hard being wedged between my fingers. I grasp the item as my mother peeks from behind Peeta and winks. I draw it into my vision and in the fading light find tears stinging again as I recognize it. Worn smooth, this ring is painfully familiar to me. This ring I always saw on my father's careful hand. Hands that taught me so many things from a young age. Hands that I will never hold again, now send their blessing in this moment.

"How…?" My voice chokes on the question and my mother's only response is her hand wrapping my fingers around the gift. I mouth a _thank you_ and gently fit the ring on Peeta. As our lips meet again a whispery sound registers in my ears. The sound grows louder until a cheer erupts around the edges of the lake.

Peeta steadies me and smiles at my reaction as I take in the throngs of people emerging from the forests edge and converging upon us.

With a sly wink, Plutarch puts the answer into words for me. "You didn't think we would let you get away with it did you? This is the wedding of the century! We'd fuel a new revolution if your fellow patriots couldn't share in it."

It is such a shock that I don't know how to respond but it is surprisingly welcome. Tables and incredible food are placed. Music is played on the steps of the old lake cabin. Warm wishes and congratulations are awarded all around.

Among the revelers I find so many that have worked their way into my life: Annie and baby Finn. He'll carry his father's incredible looks and his mother's heart. Most of the other victors. Dr. Aurelious. Many of the surviving villagers from the Seam and a few I recognize from across the rest of the district. Capitol goers. Others from the games. Even Tigress. Plutarch is right. It wouldn't be right without them. A new life and a new nation finding joy in each other.

As the final light of a magnificent sunset fades, the moon ascends higher over the lake and clouds settle in the stars. Peeta and I are rarely without each other's hand and dancing feet and fiddling rhythms fill the night.

Gale cuts in for one dance and upon returning me to Peeta, extends his hand to him.

"We both know that you're not good enough for her, but I couldn't give Katniss to anyone more deserving. You take good care of her or I'll break your neck."

Peeta's laugh lingers in the air as they shake hands.

"If anything else happens to her, I'll do the honors myself." His response gains him a similar laugh from Gale but a venomless glare from me.

Eventually a light rain starts up and begins an end to the revelry. Slowly goodbyes are acknowledged and send everyone home. My mother and Haymitch are among the last to leave and both are awkward farewells knowing we will see them so soon.

"Are you ready to go home Mrs. Mellark?" Peeta removes his coat and wraps me in it with his embrace. We stand in the rain watching the patterns move across the lake in the moonlight.

"It has been wonderful. Thank you Peeta. Your planning was beyond anything I could have hoped for. And yes, Mr. Mellark. I think I am ready to go now. Are you?"

With a quick kiss as an answer he sweeps me into his arms and carries me through the mud to my carriage tied under the canopy of trees. Riding back to the Victors' Village I can't help but compare the ride and companionship to the one earlier this evening. Why was I so nervous? Now, with the ceremony over and just the two of us I feel so relieved. No nerves, just love. He holds me close with his free hand as my teeth begin to chatter and urges the horses to quicken their pace.

We are both soaked through by the time we reach Peeta's home. A young man is waiting to take the horses. Peeta lifts me effortlessly out of carriage and up the steps. A lone voice joins the sound of pattering rain and retreating carriage wheels. Its sound causes Peeta to hesitate at the door. The clear tenor now echoing off the cobblestones and surrounding village.

Deep and smooth, we discover that the phantom sings the song traditional to the Seam that sends a newly married couple through the threshold into their life together. It has a somewhat somber edge of a family's loss of a loved one but reflects beauty and warmth for the lovers.

Listening to the tribute of my life since gone I find an immense amount of comfort in Peeta's arms; capable, supportive, adoring arms. The lilting melody comes to an end and brings a bittersweet closure to an unforgettable evening. It is an echo of beauty floating through the square.

Wet clothes are abandoned in puddles on the floor and circulation returns to my limbs in the heat of clean sheets. Soon my body discovers what has escaped my eyes over the past few years. Peeta, the baker's son has changed. Comparative to the rest of us waifs in district 12 his stockiness at sixteen has given way to broad shoulders and a rock hard chest. An upbringing of plenty does a body good and now the boy with the bread in his hands has become the man with my heart, happiness and very life in his arms.


	9. Epilogue

EPILOGUE

–Companioned with excerpts from the _Original Epilogue from Mockingjay_.

_ They play in the Meadow. The dancing girl with the dark hair and blue eyes. The boy with blond curls and gray eyes, struggling to keep up with her on his chubby toddler legs._ I don't know how he did it, but Peeta eventually won out. _It took ten_ then _fifteen years for me to agree. But he wanted them so badly. _

_When I first felt her stirring inside of me, I was consumed with a terror that felt as old as life itself. Only the joy of holding her in my arms could tame it. Carrying him was a little easier, but not much._

Each year, the information from my Victors' Log is televised for the anniversary of the reaping in honor of all who fell to and against the former government. There is always an update on the surviving victors and shots of our weddings and children and funerals.

_ The questions are just beginning_ from my little ones. _The arenas have been completely destroyed, the memorials built, there are no more Hunger Games. _But my children will learn about them and the revolution in school and read about it in their texts. _The girl knows we played a role in them. The boy will know in a few years._

I don't quite know_ how I can tell them about that world without frightening them to death._ But I am proud that they will see a mother who was more afraid of raising them in the existing world than the consequences of leading an entire nation in to a revolution. _I'll tell them how _we_ survive_d _it._ _We can make them understand in a way that will make them braver._ I'll tell them that freedom is precious and a thing to always be appreciated, protected and fought for.

The nightmares are almost gone and with them goes the last hold of a corrupt Capitol over me. I have now lived as long in the new government as I had the previous one and am finally able to trust in its strength and viability. Democracy is a beautiful thing. Bless the founding fathers of such an incredible dream that now lives again.

**THE** real** END**

According to me


	10. Afterthoughts

**So I have a few Ideas to add a couple of chapters…**

**Let me know if it actually would benefit the story to do any of these – I would love it if you had any requests too **

Interaction with the townsfolk more. She is such a recluse but it could show a visual of her through their eyes.

Dialogue during final dance with Gale, " You know…the offer to run away with me still stands Katnip…"

Description of wedding foods – Cake would be a big deal for Peeta

More dialogue, description and reflection during the carriage ride after the wedding.

**Thanks!**


End file.
